


Better to Have Loved

by InkFlavored



Series: PuzzleJune 2019 [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, M/M, enjoy the feelings, it's pretty Sad but there's an optimistic tone, kinda soft?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 09:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19170067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkFlavored/pseuds/InkFlavored
Summary: The Spirit of the Puzzle learns an important lesson about taking chances.PuzzleJune2019 (Week 2: Shadows)





	Better to Have Loved

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't intend for this one to contain so much feelings, but now it's Oops! All Feelings!

It loomed over him like an impossibly large shadow, something he could never escape. It eclipsed everything else in his life, all parts of his mind growing dimmer and dimmer as it swallowed them up. It was a threat he had never considered, an enemy he wasn’t prepared for. He had no strategy, no cunning plot, no escape route. He did not plan for this.

The Spirit of the Puzzle was in love, and it terrified him.

Yami paced the interior of the Puzzle, the twisting labyrinth of his soul, checking and double checking that the block he set up between his and Yugi’s connection was staying intact as his mind drifted to other, more _personal_ places. Places he did _not_ want his partner to know about.

Yugi wasn’t stupid. The Spirit knew it was impossible to keep this a secret for very long, by the very virtue of their closeness to each to each other. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Yugi noticed something new rushing between their bond, something unfamiliar, and then he would start asking questions. Questions that Yami was unprepared to answer.

At the same time, it would be unfair to call this burden one-sided, and even more, it would be a lie. Yami wasn’t stupid either – it hadn’t been a challenge to notice when his partner had stopped pining after Téa and the sudden shift in their bond when he turned his affections elsewhere. It wasn’t obvious, or it tried not to be. It was an underlying current, the shade of a passing cloud, attached to every feeling they shared, something unconscious and almost unnoticeable. Yami returned it without thinking. It was as natural as breathing.

And that was the most terrifying part.

Because how could he call himself a friend after this? How could he dare call himself something _more_? His time in the living world was limited – he was existing on borrowed time. Fate gave him a mission, but that was _all_ it gave him. It wasn’t right for him to feel this. It wasn’t right for either of them.

Yami stopped pacing. He had no lungs, but he took a deep breath anyway. He was going to fix this. He was just going to stop feeling this. He could do that, right? Easy enough.

He imagined a box with all of his little thoughts and feelings and affections inside of it. And then he imagined the box was… on _fire._ Yes! On _fire_! And then it was struck by lightning, and thrown down a bottomless pit, swallowed up by all darkness, his mind cleared of its wretched shadows, free of the invisible burden it placed upon him. This was _simple_. Why hadn’t he just done this ages ago?

In a significantly better mood, Yami nearly skipped to his Soul Room door. He’d gotten rid of his feelings, so letting down the wall between himself and Yugi should be no problem. He stripped down the barrier between them, put his hand on the door to push it open, but stopped. He rested his forehead on the door and smiled.

He heard Yugi laughing through their connection. A bright, clear sound, so beautiful he could have cried. He forgot how _quiet_ it could get when they were separated. It was so still when he cut himself off, almost clinical, like the harsh light of the hospitals from Yugi’s memories. Being able to feel his partner’s emotions again was like a cool breeze, a tall tree shieling him from the bright summer sun.

Yugi noticed the wall come down, and sent an enthusiastic greeting through their bond, one that Yami returned with similar intensity, with no small amount of relief. He’d missed this, even for the short time it was gone. Being connected, being _together_ in every sense of the word.  It was like coming home, it was enchanting, he loved this, he _loved_ Y—

No.

 _No_ , dammit.

He cut off his unruly thoughts with a growl and stalked up a nearby staircase, flinging open the first door he came to, shutting it automatically. He knew every single room in this place – there wasn’t a single one he hadn’t discovered. All of them led to nowhere and nothing. Exploring the Soul Room was an automatic impulse, a nervous tic. He pressed his back to the wall and slumped down to the floor, arms wrapped around his knees as he looked helplessly to the ceiling.

It was obvious that this problem would not be solved so easily. But what else was he supposed to _do_? It wouldn’t be fair to either of them if they continued this, whatever “this,” meant. And they hadn’t even _started_ anything yet. But it had to stop. Yami tore himself off the wall and pulled at his own hair in frustration.

He didn’t _want_ to stop.

His feelings were wrong and unfair and selfish, but he’d grown accustomed to them. The idea of separating himself from them felt akin to asking him to cut off his own arms. It would cripple him, make him less of who he was, or at the very least, make living a lot harder.

But he _wasn’t_ living. He had to remind himself of that sometimes – a lot more often than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t alive, he had died in Egypt thousands of years ago, and he only lived on through some strange magic and the kindness of a Japanese teenager. The more he learned about his true reason for being “alive,” the more he felt like his extra time bought in the living world was drawing to a rapid close. Soon, he would have no reason be here. Soon, something would happen to him to take him away from the living world – and from Yugi.

Speaking of whom, there was an anxious call through the Puzzle. "Pharaoh? Are you alright?"

The Pharaoh in question raised his head, confused. How could he hear Yugi if—

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall in defeat.

He had forgotten to rebuild the barrier. Which meant Yugi could feel his worry, his regret, and everything else.

"I will be alright, Partner," he responded, not wishing to lie, but not _truly_ wishing to tell the truth either.

"Are you sure?" Yugi asked, his voice suddenly a lot closer, and accompanied by the sound of a stone door grinding against the floor.

Yami looked down from his place on the floor to the entrance of his Soul Room, and saw the door being pushed open and Yugi -- his spirit form, in any case -- peeking in through the gap.

"I just felt a lot," Yugi explained, tapping the side of his head, "up here."

If he really wanted to, Yami could force the door shut and keep Yugi out as long as he wanted. He could lock himself in his Soul Room to pout like a ridiculous child. But he wasn't going to do that.

"I'm sorry for making you worry," he said. "I meant to keep myself separate from you while I… sorted myself out."

A knowing smile painted Yugi's face. "You know we're never really separate, right?"

The Pharaoh smiled back, but it quickly faded. "No, I suppose not."

Yugi noticed that. It was clear from the tenacity of their connection to the look on his face. He stepped into the Soul Room fully, shutting the door behind him, and leaned against the far wall. "Do you want to talk about whatever’s bothering you?"

No. Yes? He worked the question over in his mind, unable to come to a conclusion that didn’t make him want to swallow his own tongue.

“If you don’t want to,” Yugi continued, at the Pharaoh’s silence, “do you mind if I talk to _you_ about something?”

“Of course,” he said, without hesitation, waving him up the stairs. “Anything.”

Yugi made his way up the staircase, the scuffing of his footsteps echoing around the vastness of the spirit’s Soul Room. The closer they got, the more Yami felt the presence of that shadow, that looming darkness, creeping in from the recesses of his mind, a thought to blot out all others. He shoved it away hurriedly; this was no time to  be fighting with himself. His partner needed assistance and he _would_ be there for him.

Cresting the top of the staircase, Yugi looked almost as nervous as the Pharaoh felt – a significant change from his friendly concern not even two minutes previously. His hands were tucked behind his back, presumably to be casual, but he walked too stiff for it to be anything but a case of trying to hide shaking hands. His eyes were glued to some far away place, in a way that Yami knew meant he was rehearsing what he wanted to say in his mind, thinking one sentence over and over. Their connection suddenly fell silent as the Pharaoh realized: Yugi was blocking him out.

Yami got to his feet. “Are you alright, Partner?”

“Yep,” Yugi squeaked. He was not alright.

“Whatever is wrong,” the Pharaoh said, picking his words deliberately, “I’m sure it’s something we can solve together.”

“Yeah,” Yugi agreed, but he didn’t look reassured in the slightest. “We will.” He took a shaky breath and bowed his head.

An unbroken stretch of silence filled the space between them, both in their conversation and in the place where their connection should have been, still blocked, but Yami didn’t move to speak or chip the wall or do anything of the sort. He was prepared to wait for as long as his partner needed, for minutes, hours, days, or even another thousand years to say what he needed to say. No matter what it was, the best thing they could do was be there for each other.

The shadow was starting to slip back in, but it was the least of his priorities.

“Just one thing,” Yugi said, looking back up with a wild flip of his hair. “I’m not crazy, right?”

Yami blinked, taken-aback. “No, of course not.”

That seemed to soothe him, but for what reason, the Pharaoh couldn’t say. He watched Yugi psyche himself up, bouncing on his heels and letting out a slow breath. Yami opened his mouth to try and encourage him again, but his partner beat him to the punch.

"Is it completely weird if I have feelings for you? Romantic feelings?" he blurted, and without giving the Pharaoh a chance to answer, rushed through the rest of his thoughts so fast they were hardly legible. "I know you probably know because I can't ever really keep anything from you and a confession would be kind of redundant because you _know_ already, and I've been thinking that maybe it's weird? But I don't know if _you_ think it's weird. You haven't brought it up and I can't tell if that means you're okay with it or not and I guess… it would make me feel better. If I knew."

In that moment, Yami was glad that Yugi couldn’t seem to look him in the eye, because he wasn’t seeing his mouth open and close like a fish on dry land, trying to hide his fumbling panic behind a shoddily made mask. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to _do_?

It wasn’t weird, not in the way Yugi meant it. It wasn’t odd or strange to him, in fact it was probably the most natural thing he could have ever said. Nothing about their connection to each other was “normal,” so describing their feelings for each other as “romantic,” was the most everyday part of any of it. Being as close as they were – physically, mentally, _spiritually_ – it was almost expected that their relationship moved beyond simply being friends.

But weird as in _wrong_? Weird as if describing something that _should not_ be? Well…

“You’re right,” Yami started. “I haven’t brought it up.” He planned to slowly let him down – let them _both_ down – and tactfully end this before it began, but…

Yugi winced and his face crumbled and the sight of it tore open the Pharaoh’s mouth and brought a forth more truthful answer, along with that all-encompassing shadow he so desperately tried to escape.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” he said, and it felt like he was choking up the heart he didn’t have. “I do know about how you feel, and I never brought it up because I—” he squeezed his eyes shut “—feel the same.”

 It was anti-climactic, really. His words sounded timid and shy in his own ears. It was closer to a question than a confession, asking for permission rather than giving it. In his mind, if he ever were to admit to his feelings instead of hiding around the corner dropping hints in the form of rose-tinted words, it would have been a grand gesture. Something memorable and profound, like a crack of thunder. Instead, it felt like dropping a mid-sized rock into a pond. It splashed, it sank, it was over. Done.

“Really?” Yugi breathed. The Pharaoh opened his eyes and _oh_ —

He was smiling. Gods save him, Yugi was smiling the brightest he’d ever seen, and everything he might have said flew out of his head instantly as the wall between them _exploded_. Yami braced himself against the wall as he was overwhelmed with feelings – _Yugi’s_ feelings – in the brightest possible colors, popping and sparking like firecrackers, everything from joy to fear to anticipation. He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry or both.

“Whoa, sorry,” Yugi said, still smiling. “I didn’t think it would be that much, but.” He shrugged. “I guess I’m just really happy.”

 _He’s happy_ , Yami processed. _He’s happy_.

And the Pharaoh was happy, too, until he realized exactly what was making his partner happy.

“Partner,” he started, and hating the words he was about to say, “I care about you, truly—”

“I know,” Yugi interrupted, reaching for Yami’s hands and running his thumbs over his incorporeal knuckles. “I care about you too, Other Me. This—I’ve never done anything like this before, and we’re not exactly the most traditional couple, but I think we can make it work.” He nodded definitively, like simply deciding it would be enough.

Yami couldn’t respond. His partner was _so happy_. He couldn’t take this from him, he wouldn’t be able to live (un-live?) with himself. But would it be better to take any hope of a future from him instead?

When he was first awakened from the Puzzle, he was an aggressive beast – a _monster_ – and he took lives in his anger. He took Yugi’s name, because he didn’t understand the difference between them. He took over Yugi’s body on countless occasions. He took away any semblance of a normal life. He took away his safety. And now, he had taken Yugi’s heart, with no way of keeping the promise such an act was tied to.

Was it his destiny to take? To take and take and take, and never once give back?

“Other Me?”

Yami jerked out of the swirling mess of his own thoughts, refocusing on Yugi’s concerned face, hands still trapped in his partner’s.

“Yugi,” he sighed, “you were right in saying we are not a traditional couple. Far from it. And that’s why… I can’t. _We_ can’t.”

Blissfully ignorant, or perhaps just optimistic, Yugi smiled quizzically. “Sure we can. It won’t be easy but—”

Yami slipped his hands away before he could get used to the feeling of being held. “It won’t be _possible_.”

“What are you _talking_ about? We’re both right here, right now.”

“But I won’t be later.”

He meant to sound firm, authoritative, like the pharaoh he supposedly was in his life several millennia ago. But he only sounded broken, defeated. Like he’d given up.

Yugi was only staring at him, silent and confused. So the Pharaoh continued. “Once my task is completed,” he said, “I will still be dead. I won’t be suddenly granted another life when my destiny is finished. I’ll return to the afterlife – wherever that is. I won’t be _able_ to be with you. It would— _I_ would hurt you.”

Yami could literally hear – or, more accurately, feel – the gears in Yugi’s head turning. He wasn’t upset or distraught or giving up. He was trying to solve this, like a puzzle or a game. Yami couldn’t stop him even if he wanted to, and he would never want to. Let his wonderful partner think up any solution – _anything_ – that would let them be together. Even a temporary one. It was something he had tried and failed to do.

“Later,” Yugi finally said. “You said you would have to leave _later_ , right?”

“Yes,” Yami replied.

“So not right now?”

“Yes?”

He beamed. “It’s settled then. We make the most of what we have now. We’ll worry about later when it becomes later.”

“What? Partner, this is simply delaying the inevitable—”

“And why shouldn’t we?”

That… was not a question he was expecting. Yugi reached for his hands again. Yami let them be taken.

“I want this _now_ , Other Me,” Yugi implored. “We shouldn’t deny ourselves this because of something that might happen.”

“But…”

The Pharaoh so desperately wanted to agree. To say yes. To forget about fate and destiny and just be _happy_ together.

 _So why can’t you_? asked Yugi through their connection. Not with words, of course. But with feelings. With everything he wanted and needed and asked for. With everything he was scared of – everything he was terrified of – including the thought of being left in the living world to grieve alone. And his feeling of ignoring it all.

“I want to have this now,” he said softly, stepping close. “Before I never get to.”

The only response Yami gave – the only response he was able to give – was to throw his arms around his partner and hold him as close as he possibly could.

He wanted to do it then. Before he never could.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr as livingthedragonlife or on my writeblr as ink-flavored! any comments and feedback are appreciated! <3


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